Compass
by Mechanism Unknown
Summary: Kyouya’s been “seeing” Ranka a lot more lately. Haruhi doesn’t like it. Tamaki doesn’t either. But when no one knows where they’re going, who will be the one to point them in the right direction? RankaKyouya. Vague TamakiHaruhi. Eventual KyouyaTamaki?
1. Don't Bother

MASS NOTES: This occurs sometime after the anime – which I'm entirely going by, by the way – ends, so Honey and Mori have graduated. Chika will be the club now, because he is a bishie as well, and perhaps he decided that if he can't beat his brother at martial arts, maybe he could beat him at hosting. :P It's not a big point at all, though. Also, this _is _a sequel to/continuation of my one-shot _Orientation_, which I do make several references to, so you'd better off reading it first.

Rated T for romance content. Other than _Orientation_, which was extremely light in content, this is also my first, real boy-boy-love writing experience.

Which I find to be completely ironic.

To some degree inspired by EFAW's _Sweet Torture_, which is a must read for all you Kyouya/Tamaki fans.

Each chapter title will be a lyric or title from a song, because I'm _that _original. At the beginning of each chapter I will indicate the title and artist for your edification and delight.

…

"_Don't Bother" - Shakira_

Chapter 1: Don't Bother

Tamaki was doing it again. By this time, the flirtatious acts placed upon Haruhi came as no surprise to Kyouya, but even he couldn't deny that they _bothered _him. If Tamaki's affection for the girl were to be real, then the smart thing to do would be for him to express it as such. Then again, Tamaki had never been the smart one.

It had practically the whole school wondering how he truly felt about the newly-revealed girl, and whether or not she returned the feelings. The host club was no exception. As of late, Hikaru had been introduced into the mix as well, bringing Kaoru along with him to verbally fight against Tamaki – in a teasing manner, of course – whenever and wherever Haruhi was concerned. Chika insisted on sitting close by and commenting nonchalantly on the faults of every action they took and word they said. Needless to say, this did not help the situation.

Since the rest of the club was preoccupied, Kyouya took the time to think back to the event with Ranka at the café that past weekend; the way Hikaru had made such an impertinent remark with a pleasure befitting the mischievous twin, the way Kyouya had run off with Ranka (as a result?); the way Haruhi had stopped Tamaki from running after them, the way he disobeyed her and chose to follow; the way he had found Ranka and Kyouya together, the way he looked at Kyouya with such worry. For a moment Kyouya had believed he cared, that it _bothered _Tamaki to see him and Ranka together as much as it had bothered Kyouya to see the blonde with Haruhi.

The way Ranka had kissed him on the cheek before leaving. Had that bothered Tamaki? Kyouya had convinced himself it was nothing more than a result of Ranka's inane nature. Still, the man had reached out to Kyouya during that "date," both with his affectionate words and his open embrace.

It was for those reasons that Kyouya found himself on the Fujioka's doorstep later that evening, when he knew that Haruhi was off "doing homework" at the Suoh household. When the set of knocks on the door brought no answer for the first couple minutes, Kyouya debated whether or not he should have called before coming here.

Luckily for Kyouya, his fear of this was assuaged when the door opened just as he was about to leave. An arm lashed out from the doorway and grabbed onto his wrist, quickly pulling him inside the apartment before shutting the door behind them. Kyouya blinked to find Ranka staring back at him with an expression worthy of James Bond. It helped that he was wearing men's clothes this time around and no make-up, or else the masculinity might not have been so convincing.

"Ranka-san, what—?" Kyouya started, but was cut off by a harsh shushing on Ranka's part. A finger was brought to Kyouya's lips.

"If we're going to have this affair, we have to be perfectly secretive about it," explained Ranka. For a moment Kyouya was afraid he was being serious, but the silly way in which he stuck out his tongue a moment later revealed that he was joking. Ranka laughed at what he must have supposed to be the boy's fright – for Kyouya's face remained solidly impassive – and grabbed his hand, leading him to the small dining/living/family area. He sat him down next to the table and passed him a bowl of chips.

"What can I help you with, Kyouya?" Ranka asked, smiling in comfort. Kyouya opened his mouth to reply, and found that although a part of him wanted desperately to explain his current set of problems, he couldn't find the words to encompass them. What, exactly, _was_ bothering him? Why had he come here again?

"Nothing specific," he decided. After all, he had played the "stalking game" with no specific purpose in mind, and had come out of it with progress. Whether or not this progress had been positive was a different question. The kiss was brought to his mind again, and he instantly averted his eyes to the chip bowl. He removed a crisp and brought it to his mouth.

Ranka had apparently missed this motion of aversion. Either that or decided not to question. "All right, then, how about this?" A shuffling followed. Before Kyouya knew it, Ranka had moved behind him and locked him in an awkward sort of embrace. At first, Kyouya tensed up at the contact, but soon he realized that _this _was what he came here for – the gentle, physical touches that no one else dared give him. He leaned back into Ranka's arms with a grateful sigh. _This _was what he had been craving since the last embrace at the café.

Ranka cooed in his ear. "It's my pleasure," he said, as if in reply to a thank you. Several minutes of silence passed in which Kyouya gradually relaxed in Ranka's arms, while the latter did nothing but hold him against his chest. Once that time had passed, Ranka brought his hand up to run it through the other's dark hair.

"You're too stressed," he whispered in Kyouya's ear, sending a tingling feeling down the latter's spine. "You need to relax." Kyouya frowned. How true that was. But how could he relax with a life like this? Every moment of every day he had to make sure that he wasn't disappointing his father, that he was trying his hardest, that Tamaki wasn't making a fool out of himself, that the Host Club funds were not being drained completely by Honey's eating habits; and for what? What did Kyouya get out of it?

Oh, right, he got to watch over the blonde for hours on end. But the other cared not for his longing gazes; he didn't notice them in the least.

And what of Kyouya's father? What use was there in pleasing him? True, Kyouya enjoyed the brief moments of accomplishment that brought him at least a little bit closer to his goal, but deep down he had the sinking feeling that no matter what he did, nothing truly could bring him to be admired in his father's eyes. Nothing could ever bring him to be appointed heir to the Ootori throne.

And even if such a day would come, there would always be something missing. This _something _was the welcome of the hugs that Ranka was more than willing to give.

Kyouya clasped Ranka's hands in his own, and discovered that he didn't want to let them go. Ever. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ranka smile.


	2. I Wish It Was All That Easy

"_All That Easy" – Limp Bizkit_

Chapter 2: I Wish It Was All That Easy

When Kyouya walked into the Third Music Room the next day everyone except Chika, who still had Karate Club to attend to, was there already. Tamaki was rummaging through the newest set of costumes, presumably in an attempt to find a dress for Haruhi among the wares. The twins were sharing cookies with Haruhi in the most provocative way possible without actually _doing _anything. (Cookies from Renge, that is – after she found out that Haruhi was a girl, her object of affection had originally transferred to Kaoru, who she thought to be the seme, but as she could never tell the two apart, the burden ended up on both twins.) Haruhi, of course, remained passively nonchalant. Needless to say, it wasn't long before Tamaki was distracted from his search.

Kyouya turned his gaze away from the arguing crowd and immediately began setting up his laptop. Upon noticing his presence, Tamaki trotted over to his designated table. He had given up on complaining to Kyouya about the defilement of his daughter, since most of the time Kyouya predicted Tamaki's desires, and stopped the twins on his own before the King could actually ask him to.

This time, he had another problem on his mind.

"Kyouya, are you okay?" he asked worriedly, kneeling down beside the chair. As always, he looked all the cuter when concerned. Kyouya turned to him, peering down through his clear glasses.

"I'm fine, Tamaki," he answered, putting on the best fake smile he could muster. "Why do you ask?"

Tamaki cocked his head to the side, only rendering him more endearing. "You haven't spoken much since you and Ranka-san…" He trailed off, unsure of what to call the situation they had been in, though he knew that Kyouya knew what he meant. Tamaki was still asking himself the question, was it a date? Sure, Ranka had reason to watch over Haruhi, but why did Kyouya feel the need to go with him?

Kyouya hated the way Tamaki referred to "you and Ranka-san" as if it _meant_ something. There was no "Kyouya and Ranka." There wouldn't be. There couldn't be. What reason could there be for it?

_Why, Ranka had such loving touch…_

Kyouya stopped himself. He couldn't think like that. There was no merit in such a relationship.

…or was there? Merit came in different shapes and sizes.

"Kyouya…?" spoke Tamaki, and Kyouya realized he had been staring at _those violet eyes_ for longer than he meant to. He quickly averted his gaze back to his laptop, which had finished booting up.

"Shouldn't you be dressing up for the clients?" he questioned, still staring ahead at the screen. He could practically feel Tamaki's head bobbing excitedly.

"Yes, yes, but we have a costume for you, too!" And so, he ran to retrieve it from for Kyouya. The latter chuckled to him self. That always-eager attitude of Tamaki's served to brighten up his day, even if his mysterious countenance didn't show it. He loved these moments when everything seemed simple and okay, because everything really was far from it. A nice break from reality in Tamaki's bizarre world was just what he needed sometimes.

This break lasted until the last client of the Host Club had left in a flurry of floating hearts. Or, to be more precise, had skipped out the door. After the members had removed their elaborate costumes within the safety of the changing areas – for Haruhi's sake, especially – they gathered once more before leaving for the day in the center of the room. Chika, claiming that he didn't want to dabble in the club's more personal affairs, departed immediately. As Kyouya made a brief report on the day's finances, during which Hikaru and Kaoru yawned dramatically, he couldn't help but catch the strange gaze that Haruhi was giving him – the same look she had been giving him since Monday. It was a cross between worry and anxiety.

She sought to explain this look a minute later as she gently grabbed onto Kyouya's arm as they all turned to leave. He stopped, turned, and raised an eyebrow at her.

"Yes?"

"Wait a minute, please?" she requested, keeping that look. She briefly called to the other boys to wait outside for her; an appeal to which two responded affirmatively and the third said nothing at all but instead followed his brother outside. Once the heavy doors closed behind them, she spoke again. "Kyouya-senpai, what were you doing with my dad last weekend?" She dropped her grip on his arm.

_God, she makes it sound so licentious_, was Kyouya's first thought. He explained, "He wanted to check on you during your date. He invited me to come along." He purposely left out the part of his playing a role in the ploy, which Haruhi undoubtedly knew of, remembering that she had not been aware of his place on the other end of Ranka's telephone line.

"Why?"—How the hell was he supposed to know? In fact, Kyouya had little idea why Ranka requested that he join him in the endeavor. In retrospect, maybe Ranka wanted to make sure that Kyouya knew everything that happened concerning Tamaki and Haruhi that day, as they were bound to find each other eventually.

"I believe he thought it would add interest." Although a lie, this was entirely plausible. Kyouya being there _had_ made the result more interesting and complicated, though not in the best way. This could have been Ranka's motivation after all. "Why don't you ask Ranka-san yourself?"

She rolled her eyes. "I did. He just told me not to worry about it and gave me a hug." She shrugged, indicating that questioning her father any further would be a lost cause. The way she nonchalantly used the term "hug" intrigued Kyouya; she acted as if it meant nothing. And indeed, her expression when on the receiving end of a squeeze from Ranka – or Tamaki, for that matter – showed nothing close to appreciation. Meanwhile, a hug from either Ranka or Tamaki meant so much to Kyouya.

Tamaki hadn't given him any sort of hug in so long…

Kyouya snorted a laugh at Haruhi's words – but not a real laugh, no; he saved those for Tamaki. "I see," was all he said before heading towards the door. Haruhi grabbed her bag and followed after him, only to be assaulted by words of – fake? – affection as soon as she stepped out the door.


	3. Everybody Wants to Feel

"_Quasimodo" – Lifehouse_

Chapter 3: Everybody Wants to Feel

Kyouya scribbled away furiously at his Calculus homework, the menial integrals pouring onto the paper directly from remote memory. Inside the more active portions of his mind, he tried desperately to sort out the occurrences of the past couple weeks.

What did Ranka mean to him? And what did he mean to Ranka?

He had no doubt that Ranka wanted to help him, and that the man knew all these caring, if simple, elements of physical contact were one thing that did help. This was highly significant; there was only one other person in Kyouya's life that expressed the desire to help him, but at best Fuyumi could only serve as a maternal figure. He needed a real father in his life; someone who would embrace him with tenderness, listen to what Kyouya had to say when we wanted to speak, but also let him remain silent when he wanted to.

_This _was Ranka. Ranka was what he wanted in a father. Haruhi didn't realize how lucky she was.

Ranka also had that element of quirkiness and ridiculousness that could be so utterly _charming_ and, well, reminded him of Tamaki. But Tamaki…he could never fill that paternal void. He was too self-involved, too talkative, and too busy. He always needed to do _something_, and although he always managed to find a way to get Kyouya involved and enjoyably obeying his every command, there was never time for nothing.

He talked on and on and on… True, Kyouya normally enjoyed listening to his melodious voice speaking poetry from some absurd part of his mind.

But lately all Tamaki ever talked about was Haruhi. It was better back in middle school, when he and Kyouya would go on those trips together all around Japan – just the two of them. Looking back, Kyouya regretted that he didn't appreciate these moments enough while they lasted. They didn't happen anymore; he no longer had the opportunity to spend time alone with Tamaki.

And sometimes that was all he wanted.

His eyes wandered back to his notebook. Fragments of words sprawled across the page, and Kyouya realized that his mind had been wandering more than he thought, and that the pencil had traveled with it. Sighing, he began erasing the last section of his homework that had been rendered useless or unreadable by his miscellaneous scribbles.

Just as he was about to restart the next problem, a knock at his door interrupted.

"Come in," he granted. The door creaked open to reveal one of the maids, an ever-present expressionless façade.

"I apologize greatly for bothering you, Kyouya-bocchama," she said robotically, "but your father requests your presence." Kyouya's eyes widened. What _else _could he add to his growing list of troubles?

The maid led him to one of the many living areas. His father stood like a solid brick, facing his third son with – what was that? – a _glare_?

Needless to say, a glare from the head of the Ootori group was _not _a nice thing to be subjected to.

"You called?" Kyouya prompted after a minute of complete and frightening silence. He stood his ground as well, just waiting for something to happen.

"I did. It has come to my attention that you have been spending less and less time concentrating on your schoolwork," he said, each word echoing against the steel walls with his powerful yet composed voice. "I have told you several times before that I will no longer be satisfied with just being at the top of your class. If you wish to surpass your brothers, this mismanagement will have to cease."

Kyouya inwardly winced. It was bitter, how true this was. Each moment spent with Ranka was a moment not spent working on homework. Each moment spent pondering his situation was a moment not spent paying attention in class.

But each moment spent with Ranka was _precious_, and each moment spent pondering his situation was vital to his mental stability, which was fast going.

"I understand, father," Kyouya finally acknowledged, nodding solemnly. The coldness felt all but frozen solid today. They say you can't miss what you've never had. Now that Kyouya had felt the warmth, he missed it in the words of his real father.

"I should hope so," the man continued. "You are dismissed." As he turned away from Kyouya, the boy nearly ran out the door on the other side of the room, resisting the urge to slam the door behind him. He was feeling so angry and confused. He had to find someone to blame.

The first name that came to his mind was Tamaki.—But why?

Oh, that's right. His desire to separate Tamaki from Haruhi led him to Ranka. Spending time with Ranka "wasted" time better left to studying. His distress over both Ranka and Tamaki led him to distraction, and led him back to Ranka's arms to waste more time.

As was happening now, as Kyouya unconsciously ran straight to the okama's apartment. A feeling of transcendence washed over him; he saw the ground in front of him, felt the hard pavement beneath his shoes, and heard each footstep hit the stone, but something else was guiding him to his destination.

And it certainly wasn't his mind.

He remembered the days when he used to run – metaphorically speaking, of course – to Suoh #2 at times like these, if only to just drink tea around a kotatsu in the middle of July. He remembered the days when Tamaki was always available – back then, he had nothing better to do than bother Kyouya, after all. Now, Kyouya had no idea if or when Tamaki would be at home.

Kyouya needed stability in his life. He needed things to have a place and be in it at all times. He needed people to be where they belonged when they were supposed to be.

But in this crazy, mixed-up world, where did Kyouya belong?


	4. Crescendo

"_Crescendo" – Stella Quintet_

Chapter 4: Crescendo

Kyouya yanked open the apartment door without knocking, subconsciously checking to see if Haruhi's shoes appeared in front of him. They didn't, so he quickly removed his own.

"Hello, Kyouya," Ranka greeted, clearly startled by the sudden appearance, but at the same time openly happy about it. Kyouya didn't even spare him a glance as he immediately went to a cabinet drawer in the kitchen. After yanking it open, he pulled out a knife and brought it to his wrist. He needed to hurt himself, to feel pain, to sense something – anything – on his skin to see if he still felt at all. His mind screamed at both him for what we wanted to do and Tamaki for making him doing it.

That was just like Tamaki – the one who could make Kyouya do anything.

Just as the knife grazed the skin, Ranka shot up from his seat on the floor and rushed over, grabbing the knife out of Kyouya's hand and tossing it to the floor.

"Kyouya, stop it!" he reprimanded, tightly wrapping his arms around the shaking body before him. Kyouya felt the strong desire to punch Ranka for stopping him from completing his task, even though he knew it as a good thing that he hadn't gone through with it. Unfortunately for him, the grip was too firm to be broken. Gradually, his anger faded as Ranka held him tighter and closer than anyone had ever held him before. He glanced down at the small slash – no bigger than a paper cut – the knife had made on his wrist—no, that _he_ had made—and bit his lip. If Ranka hadn't been there, if Kyouya didn't have a place to go to where he knew someone would be there for him, he could have done much worse.

A drop of moisture hit the shoulder of his uniform. Turning his head, he saw Ranka's face buried in his shoulder. In that moment, when he realized that Ranka was _crying_, he decided that sadness didn't suit the normally peppy person any more than did pity.

"Ranka…" said Kyouya, for nothing else could be said. He briefly wondered where the honorific went, but did not think much of it. He began searching for how to continue when Ranka interrupted him.

"Promise me you won't ever do that again," he choked out. He lifted his head, and there were indeed tears in his eyes.

"I promise." Kyouya hoped he would have the self-control to keep this oath.

Suddenly, a bright smile appeared on Ranka's face. He stepped back and turned Kyouya around so that they looked at each other face-to-face. "But do you know what this means?" Kyouya smiled inwardly at the delight that so befitted Ranka returning to his features. Outwardly, he shook his head, prompting Ranka to continue. "Think about it. You almost _cut yourself_ over _Tamaki-kun_."

Kyouya's eyes widened. _How did he know it was over Tamaki?_ Wasn't it over _everything _in his life? Was Ranka just being his silly self and making things up, or could he really see things that even Kyouya couldn't see?

Then again, Kyouya had somehow come to the same conclusion: _It's all Tamaki's fault_.

Placing his hands on the boy's shoulders, Ranka stared straight into his eyes with such seriousness that Kyouya couldn't help but disregard his first assumption. "You _love _him."

All of Kyouya's thoughts stopped for a split second. "…what?"

Ranka laughed. "Don't you see? This is what has been really bothering you all along. It's not _just _your father. You want to stay with Tamaki-kun, but you can't, and when you don't, you want him to chase after you." _But he doesn't. _"I told you I can see these things."

Kyouya kept his gaze impassive. For the moment, he accepted this explanation and accordingly responded, "Even if I do love Tamaki"—the words felt strange coming from his mouth—"he wouldn't return my affection. He obviously cares for Haruhi."

"Maybe," Ranka replied vaguely, gaining a small smirk. "But that's why I'm here." He pulled himself closer to Kyouya, quickly shrinking the distance between them. With each centimeter that Ranka's face approached his, Kyouya's breath quickened. He stood his ground as Ranka gave his mouth a slow, soft kiss. He reacted first with surprise, then with relish. He wanted _this _something, too, he found.

Suddenly, the peck on the cheek that had been vexing him seemed like nothing anymore.

As Kyouya gave no signal of disapproval the first time, Ranka brought his lips to the boy's once more, and this time Kyouya returned the kiss. Pale arms brought themselves around Ranka's waist; he sank into their embrace. Kyouya steadily became more and more relaxed as well, as Ranka's lips softly caressed his own. All the possible thoughts of how _wrong_ this was – a grown man kissing a boy! – or what troubles it would cause came and went through Kyouya's mind. The force that Ranka put into making him unwind was too great, though, so that Kyouya could not concentrate on these pessimistic thoughts for too long before returning to the sweetness that surrounded his mouth.

His hands traveled underneath Ranka's t-shirt and up his back, clinging to him with long-lost frailty. Correspondingly, Ranka tightened his own grip around the boy's shoulders.

Then it was too much, and Kyouya had to break away. He inhaled a sharp breath of air before coming to his senses. His gaze showed him a smile both on Ranka's lips and in his eyes. Slowly, Kyouya grew his own smile as he came to a realization: a part of him wanted this to continue, and the other part _needed _this to continue. He needed someone to love him as a father, a mother, and a lover all in one. And Ranka could do that for him.

It was this revelation that convinced Kyouya that this "affair" could go on.


	5. Your Best Friend is Not Your Girlfriend

"_It Hurts" – Angels and Airwaves_

Chapter 5: Your Best Friend is Not Your Girlfriend

All day Tamaki had been throwing concerned glances at him. It felt good to know that the blonde at least _pretended_ to care. Each time Kyouya pretended not to notice, averting his eyes toward the teacher or his lunch tray, when the time came. It wasn't until after school, before the Host Club meeting started, that Tamaki had the opportunity to actually say something. There, no one else was around, and he knew that Kyouya would talk to him.

"Kyouya, did something happen?" Tamaki asked, concern wrinkling his brow and a frown on his face.

"No. Why do you ask?" replied Kyouya laconically. For some reason, he felt he couldn't tell Tamaki about any of the events of the day past – even the ones unrelated to Ranka. Maybe because he didn't want Tamaki worried anymore, worried over him. That look on his face wrenched Kyouya's heart out.

"Your face is red, and you look really tired."

"It's just that I didn't get much sleep last night, Tamaki, that's all." He attempted a smile. This was no lie; after his mind wandered, the incident with his father, and his running away to Ranka, had taken up a large amount of time. Afterwards, he spent most of the night finishing the homework he didn't get done when he should have.

His father was right, as much as he hated to admit it.

"If you say so," conceded Tamaki, but his frown did not waver. "Maybe you should skip the club today. You need to go home and sleep." This time, Kyouya really did smile. However, it was at his happiness in receiving such attention and care from Tamaki, and not merely in an attempt to assuage the worry itself.

"I'll be fine," Kyouya consoled. Tamaki shook his head emphatically. He took the other's wrist and was about to lead him back down the hall when his thumb brushed against the fresh cut. Kyouya winced. It was small, but it still stung. Eyes widening, Tamaki pushed back the sleeve and lifted Kyouya's arm to examine the injury more carefully. With equal care, Kyouya kept his arm from shaking at the other's touch.—

_Could_ he be in love with Tamaki? Of course, he loved Tamaki as a friend, but—but—maybe he wanted something more… These moments alone – did you want them to last forever with "just a friend"? Why else had he worked to prevent Tamaki from going on a date with Haruhi? And it wasn't just Haruhi. If it had been any other girl, Kyouya was sure he would have had the same reaction.—

"What's this?" Tamaki wondered aloud. He glanced from Kyouya's face to the cut and back. It didn't _look _like anything serious…

"A paper cut."

The more Kyouya thought about it, the more it seemed entirely likely, and the more untoward the situation became. Tamaki loved Haruhi. He _had _to love Haruhi. Why else would he want to spend all his time with her?

Kyouya knew the feeling all too well. He also knew that one couldn't do anything about it.

So where did that leave Kyouya? Without Tamaki. With Ranka. But at this moment, he wanted Tamaki so much more than he wanted Ranka.

Tamaki did not seem entirely convinced. Before he could comment, however, the other hosts arrived, and the moment was broken. Tamaki let Kyouya's arm fall to his side without another word as he rushed over to Haruhi's side. Kyouya spent exactly two minutes collecting him self before speaking again.

"You're right, Tamaki," he announced without turning around, loud enough so that everyone could hear him. The other chatter paused to leave room for Kyouya's speech. "I should go home." With that, he turned on his heals and excited the room without another glance. Tamaki muttered a word of explanation to the other hosts, all the while staring at the double doors even after they had shut. Little did Kyouya know how much Tamaki had wanted to stay with him at that moment.

"What's wrong with Kyouya-senpai?" Haruhi asked, void of concern and only out of curiosity. An innocent question, but as always Hikaru had to take the words and twist them around, bringing his brother along for the ride.

"You know," the older twin began, tone streaked with guile, "he's been very secretive—"

"More secretive than usual," Kaoru added, for a secretive Kyouya was not all that odd.

"—ever since _that _day, with Ranka-san." Kaoru's eyes lit up as he caught on to his brother's conclusion. "Maybe…maybe Kyouya-senpai and Ranka-san…"

Here, Kaoru and Hikaru joined voices in whispering the answer into Haruhi's ears. "…are having an _affair_," they said, and the very word sent chills up Haruhi's spine. _Three words: bad mental image._ The thought of anyone other than her late mother with her father disgusted her to no end.

"_Kyouya-senpai_? I don't think so," she insisted, crossing her arms. "He wouldn't do such a thing, and neither would my dad." Why would they? There was none of Kyouya's so-called "merit" in such a relationship. In fact, there existed quite the opposite – many problems could and would result from it.

Meanwhile, the twins' word choice had finally registered in Tamaki's mind. He clasped his hands around Haruhi's ears.

"Do not use such dirty words around my daughter!" he reprimanded loudly. He immediately broke into a monologue about proper etiquette around "his precious daughter," flailing his arms in the air emphatically.

"Ah, Lord," the twins continued once Tamaki had finished, "you know Kyouya-senpai the best, so _you_ tell us what's bothering him."

Here, Tamaki stopped in his tracks. "I…don't know…" he admitted, bringing his finger to his own lips as he often did when embarrassed. As hard as he tried to think, he could not find the answer they were looking for. He hadn't talked to Kyouya much lately, and when he did try to ask about his wellbeing, the stoic boy denied him a real answer. Always, "I'm fine, Tamaki." Clearly, something was bothering him, but he refused to tell Tamaki what it was. Was it just Kyouya being overly reticent, or had they really grown that distant? Tamaki hoped that it wasn't the latter – he wanted to stay best friends with Kyouya _forever_.

And maybe…maybe something _more_ than that—

Tamaki stopped mid-thought again. He shouldn't be thinking such things about Kyouya, his best friend! But then again, that would go along with the _utter repulsion_ he felt when the twins had said Kyouya and Ranka were having an _affair_. He had to assume it wasn't of the sexual type, for Kyouya wouldn't do that. Plus, Tamaki couldn't see any value for Kyouya in such a relationship. (As idiotic as Tamaki was sometimes, he knew that Kyouya required so-called merit from everything he did.)

Still, the thought of anyone even _hugging_ Kyouya as Tamaki wanted to hug him… Well, it upset the King.

Besides, why would Kyouya be seeing someone else when he could just spend the time with Tamaki?

But wait – Kyouya _couldn't _spend time with Tamaki, because Tamaki was spending all his time with _Haruhi_. And as much as Tamaki cared about Haruhi and wanted to spend time with her, he wanted to be with Kyouya, too.

He _missed _Kyouya, even though he hadn't gone anywhere.


	6. What Is This?

"_What's This?" – Danny Elfman, The Nightmare Before Christmas_

Chapter 6: What Is This?

Kyouya frowned as he reached towards the doorknob. Again, his feet had defied him and brought him _here_, instead of home. Of course he hadn't taken the car. He couldn't even let the chauffeur know that he was repeatedly visiting this one commoner home. His father had gotten displeased enough at his slacking. What chaos would result from him – or anyone else, for that matter – finding out about _this_?

And what was _this_? Kyouya had finally found an answer. And with it, he could move forward with conviction.

His hand gripped the doorknob and turned. Surprisingly, it was unlocked – didn't Ranka ever work? After stepping inside, Kyouya quietly closed the door behind him and removed his shoes. The lights were on, though Ranka was nowhere in sight. A forgotten sheet of paper and pencil lay on the table in the other room. Perhaps the housekeeper had just stepped out for a bit.

"Ranka?" Kyouya called out into the still air. But a moment later, Ranka himself emerged from one of the closed doors at the other end of the apartment. Upon seeing Kyouya, his face visibly lit up. In contrast, upon noticing the darkness under the other's eyes, he frowned.

"It's nice to see you again so soon, Kyouya," he greeted, stepping closer, "but shouldn't you be sleeping?" Kyouya collapsed into his arms, silently agreeing.

"What about you?" he wondered aloud, smirking into Ranka's shirt. "Shouldn't you be working?"

Ranka chuckled, bringing them together in a real embrace. "I switched my schedule around." An unspoken _So I can be here for you_ followed.

_This _was someone who did generous things for Kyouya.

"Isn't there a Host Club meeting today?" Ranka asked. Haruhi wasn't home, and the other host appeared to know it. He nodded without saying a word, but Ranka didn't need an explanation for why he wasn't attending. He certainly didn't mind the visitation whenever possible.

Sighing, Kyouya detached himself, and then made his way to the other room. He sat down next to the table, lazily tracing the outlines of the sparse furniture in his mind. It had been a long time since he had gotten this little sleep, and his normally precise, calculating mind wasn't in tune as it was usually. Ranka sat down across from him. Worry streaked his face, but he nevertheless dedicated himself to the scrap piece of paper that lay on the table in front of him.

"What is that?" Kyouya asked, not wanting to miss a detail of the situation.

"A grocery list for Haruhi," Ranka answered simply, glancing up. "What would you like for dinner?" His smile almost made Kyouya accept the invitation.

But logic came first. "I can't possibly—"

"Of course you can! Don't you worry about what Haruhi will think, that's my job." He paused. Then, slowly, he gained a look in narrowed eyes that was positively _captivating_. Kyouya stood – or sat, rather – his ground as Ranka crawled _over the table_ to him. He laid his hands on Kyouya's chest and pushed him to the floor; gentle enough to prevent any harm, but hard enough to be considered an act of force. "Or do I have to _make _you relax?" Ranka kneeled over him, auburn hair falling down and framing the fine features of his face.

Kyouya smirked. "No." Bringing his arms around Ranka's neck, he pulled him closer until their lips met. And all was over from there – or perhaps everything had just begun – but either way they couldn't tell, nor did they care. All they were concerned with was the taste of each other's lips, and the texture, and the way they caressed one another in perfect harmony. The way Ranka's tongue begged for entry, and the way Kyouya submitted, though it really was more of a demand. He sent his own tongue forth to do battle, and even before that he realized:

_This _was someone who would answer to his desires.

His desires were the only thing speaking as he pulled Ranka closer and closer and closer until the older man had to lift himself up to breathe. But soon he was back again, tracing the line of Kyouya's jaw with his tongue and spreading little kisses all around. Kyouya guided him all the way with small inclines of the head and a hand in Ranka's amazingly soft hair. This time, Kyouya left enough space between them for Ranka's hands to reach the buttons of his school uniform. The long, elegant fingers lingered on the buttons before undoing them, in the most teasing way possible. Ranka smirked at Kyouya, and Kyouya smirked back at him, before bringing the other's lips to his once again, saying _Oh no, you can't do that to me_.

And soon, the jacket was gone, and the shirt was open, and Ranka's mouth was back down to Kyouya's chin. This time, the sweet kisses went further, trailing down the length of the boy's torso. With each light pressure applied to his body, Kyouya felt all the more _alive_.

He found he didn't have to _hurt_ to be alive. He could feel pleasure and be alive, too.

He wanted more of it, and with that small moan he commanded Ranka to give him more. And so Ranka did, retracing his steps up Kyouya's chest and back to his neck. One hand went to Kyouya's hair, delving into the dark strands, while the other hand was placed on the hip, massaging the pale skin in an attempt to make Kyouya more _relaxed_.

And how relaxed Kyouya was. He could have simply melted beneath Ranka's firm yet smooth grip. The man purred in his ear, nuzzling against his neck and spreading soft kisses. But Kyouya wanted the intensity back, and so turned his head to capture Ranka's lips again.

_This _was someone who gave Kyouya what we wanted.

They continued to devour each other's mouths in sweet rapture, tasting the feeling within them. Kyouya's hands reached for Ranka's waist, but tight clasps on the wrists stopped them from going there. Then, everything stopped as Ranka broke away from the kiss, staring down at Kyouya with an apologetic smile. He shook his head. The boy looked back up in surprise. Gradually, reason began to replace ecstasy, and Kyouya realized that this was best.

They shouldn't go there. They _couldn't _go there, regardless of how much his hormones wanted them to.

In a rush, all the thoughts on how _wrong _this relationship was and the trouble they could get into for it came flooding into Kyouya's mind. He thought Ranka must have cared as well, but perhaps for a different reason. For Haruhi's sake, certainly.

After letting go of Kyouya's wrists, Ranka laid down beside him. He wrapped an arm around Kyouya like Tamaki often did with "Kuma-chan," pulling him close to his side. Kyouya stared up at the ceiling, mentally remarking on the number of tiles.

"Sleep," Ranka whispered in his ear. Kyouya did as he was told, however reluctantly, and feel into a deep slumber. He smiled, and was certain that Ranka did too.


	7. Knowing Too Well

"_Don't" – Jewel_

Chapter 7: Knowing Too Well

After the Host Club meeting had ended, Haruhi came home to a sight that nearly made her run in the opposite direction, had she not been such a steadfast young woman.

Ootori Kyouya was _sleeping_ in her living room. With his head resting on a pink, frilly pillow that she instantly recognized as one from her father's bed, he looked positively _cute_. Nothing like the sharp, cold accountant he so often embodied.

However, her awe at this picturesque layout faded as she noticed some disturbing details. Kyouya's jacket was off, and although the white dress shirt was still in place, it was un-tucked and askew in a way of which Haruhi knew Kyouya wouldn't approve. Plus, his hair was positively _disheveled_.

It didn't help that Ranka was sitting nearby.

Ranka. Kyouya. Alone in the apartment. Together. After what the twins had supposed earlier – though they were certainly joking – she couldn't help but feel disturbingly curious.

She didn't have much time to consider the awkward situation, though, as Ranka launched her into a squeeze that nearly squished her small frame.

"Haruhi-chan!" he cooed, displaying his characteristic smile, "Welcome home! I made you a grocery list." He proudly shoved a piece of paper in her face. She took it from his hands, giving the items on it a cursory glance before shoving it into her pocket. "Kyouya-kun's staying for dinner, okay?"

The way he cocked his head to the side in the most adorable way a father could possibly manage prevented Haruhi from saying no even if she wanted to. True, this wasn't going to be the most comfortable of circumstances – especially if they had to wake Kyouya up – but she had some desperate questions for him. As a result, Haruhi nodded in acceptance. She turned to leave again, this time to get the supplies for said dinner.

"I'll be back soon," she said, and Ranka waved her off. Once the door closed behind her, she breathed a deep sigh. She had the terrible feeling that this was going to be one _long_ evening.

_Especially _if they had to wake up Kyouya. She had heard the tales of horror from Tamaki several times over. In fact, whenever she was alone with Tamaki, that was all he ever talked about – Kyouya. (She was sure that she knew now far more about Kyouya than he realized, and perhaps even more about the Shadow King than she knew about Tamaki himself.) That and how cute she looked, which was such a superficial compliment that she simply brushed it aside to pay attention to the more important things he said. The more _genuine _things he said.

At times it seemed like nothing was more genuine than the smile on Tamaki's face when he said the name _Kyouya_. Except today, when what accompanied the name was not a smile, but a frown, since Tamaki knew that his best friend wasn't feeling well, but wouldn't tell him about it.

Haruhi was both also worried about Kyouya's health and wary of how this would effect a change in behavior. She sighed, trying to concentrate on grocery shopping. This was done quickly and easily, and so she returned to her house in good time.

Unfortunately, Kyouya was still asleep when she got there. Ranka welcomed her home and then turned back to Kotoko's shrine. His expression carried such a unique seriousness that it brought Haruhi to wonder what her father was saying to her late mother in that strange mind of his. Shrugging the concern off, she turned to the task at hand. Even though Kyouya's sleeping form was facing the other direction, she couldn't help but feel dark eyes pouring into her back as she fixed dinner, watching her every move with that precise, calculating stare of his.

Luckily – or unluckily, depending on the point of view – just as Haruhi placed the finished meal on the table, ready to serve, a rustling was heard from behind her. Both she and her father turned to see Kyouya opening his eyes. He blinked twice, assessing the situation.

"Haruhi…?" he said, as his first sight was the girl herself. She mentally noted how his tone hinted at surprise and slight confusion, as he didn't expect her to be there. But this _was_ her house…

"Awake just in time, Kyouya-senpai," she responded, smiling warmly in an attempt to disperse any anger he held in this just-woken state. She sat down at one end of the table. "Dinner's ready."

Slowly, Kyouya sat up. He tossed a sidelong glance at Ranka, but the man was too busy savoring the apparently tasty meal that Haruhi made to notice. Mentally shrugging, he lifted himself over to the table. He might as well enjoy the food.

"Thank you, Haruhi," he said politely. "I appreciate the meal."

Haruhi nodded. "You're welcome."

It wasn't until minutes later, after she was sure that Kyouya was fully awake, that she decided to question him about his stay.

"So what brings you to my house, Kyouya-senpai, if I might ask?" she inquired in as innocent a tone as she could muster. He didn't even bother to look up from stirring his noodles around in the bowl to answer.

"Business," he explained casually. "Ranka has been especially concerned over your host club activities ever since your gender was revealed."

Haruhi began to nod in understanding, but then stopped mid-bob. _"Ranka"? What happened to the "-san"?_

It is to be noted that Kyouya noticed this neglectful absence as well, after the words left his mouth, but remained calm as always. His facial expression revealed no change.

"Yes, Haruhi-chan, Kyouya's being very helpful!"—_Now "Kyouya"? What happened to the "-kun"?_, she thought, distressed.—"You still never talk to me about school, and your chest has grown bigger, so that it must be harder for you to hide it under your uniform now—"

"Dad!" Haruhi interrupted sternly, embarrassed for good reason. "Not in front of Kyouya-senpai!"

Ranka grinned, jumping up at giving his daughter a loving squeeze from across the table. "Aww, Haruhi-chan, your angry face is so _cute_!"

Meanwhile, the guest expressed his amusement with a '_Heh'_. Secretly, he was relieved that his appearing in the middle of Haruhi's living space when she came home had not caused too much of a scene. But then again, Haruhi was like that – calm and rational when approaching problems.

Now Tamaki…he would have reacted with such wild shock, overdramatically imagining everything possible that could have brought Kyouya into such a state.

But that was what made Tamaki so _loveable_. Yes, Kyouya had already come to this conclusion – Tamaki would be exactly like Ranka 20 years from now.

But wait—but wait—what that did imply! Was _that _why Kyouya wanted to be with Ranka so much? Because he reminded him of Tamaki?

But that couldn't be it. Tamaki didn't give him loving hugs, didn't caress his skin with soft hands. And he certainly didn't give him…_fervent...kisses_…—Stop. Breathe.

But that was exactly the problem, wasn't it? That Tamaki didn't give him the things he wanted, _needed_, that Kyouya so desired _from Tamaki_? Ranka gave him these things, sharing his love. As selfish as Kyouya admitted himself to be, he hated to think of Ranka as a substitute.

No. Ranka certainly did mean a lot to Kyouya. But maybe not in _that _way.


	8. Don't Call it a Crush

Reply to **Kuro**: Thank you, etc. I wish I could make the chapters longer, but I find I just run out of things to say. As I've been told repeatedly, I write concisely - that's just the way it is.

"_Little Razor Blade" – The Pink Spiders_

Chapter 8: Don't Call it a Crush

Kyouya was frustrated, but of course he didn't show it. He had been on the receiving end of glances all day, the looks a variety of fear, shock, and a general state of being "freaked out." If he dared return one of those gazes, the viewer would instantly avert their eyes for fear of the consequences at being confronted by Ootori Kyouya. A sneaking suspicion and general discomfort made him think that it had something to do with his _relationship_ with Ranka, even though no one could possibly know of it. Haruhi didn't have any proof, and even if she did she wasn't the type to spread rumors.

There were, however, two of Kyouya's _friends _that _were_ prone to sharing such gossip.

"Hey, Kaoru, don't you wonder where Kyouya-senpai went yesterday? When he skipped out on the club?"

"You know what I think, Hikaru? I think he went to see Ranka-san again, after their _date_."

_It wasn't a date_, Kyouya thought bitterly, retaining the justification for the innocence of their tryst in the café. Since then, it seemed like so much time had passed. So much had happened between them.

So much, in fact, that lately Kyouya had begun to accept the fact that there was a _them_.

Two identical arms slung over his shoulders. "Isn't that right, Kyouya-senpai?" the voices asked in unison, their tone implying that they already knew the answer.

"And why would you say that?" the upperclassman carefully chose to retort, maintaining a remote gaze.

"Why, because Kyouya-senpai was with Ranka-san _all alone_…" Hikaru began.

"…and then they _ran off_ together," finished Kaoru. Mirror smirks danced on their lips. Kyouya had to assume that Hikaru had told his brother everything about that day – no doubt heavily laden with bias – as Kaoru played along well even though he hadn't been amongst the bystanders.

"Hikaru! Kaoru! I _told _you not to say such unpleasant things in front of my daughter!" a disgruntled Tamaki reprimanded, hopping over to the entrance of the Third Music Room where the twins and Kyouya stood.

"You ruin all our fun, Lord," they complained. Nevertheless, they halted their teasing, lifting themselves off of Kyouya's shoulders. Rather than argue with the King, they chose to go bother Haruhi on the other side of the room, where she had been trying to read a book. Kyouya stopped himself from raising an eyebrow when Tamaki didn't follow them. Instead, the blonde stood straight in front of his co-host and cocked his head to the side, rendering him all the more adorable.

"Is it true?" he asked quietly.

Kyouya crossed his arms. "Is what true?" He wanted to make Tamaki say it himself, or else he refused to answer. And more than that, he wanted to see Tamaki's reaction.

"You and Ranka-san…having an affair."

Well, that was _not _among the reactions Kyouya had been expecting. The emotion in those cerulean orbs appeared to be of the nature of _jealousy _and _hurt_. Why such feelings of pain were brought forth from Kyouya and Ranka's suspected relationship of course concerned the former greatly, but was even more important to Kyouya was that these feelings even penetrated Tamaki's normally upbeat attitude. It was that exuberance that Kyouya loved – dare he use the word – and in his absence he practically felt the pain himself.

And so, as a result, he worked to vanquish it. This was at least half of the impetus for lying in answer, the other half being for the secrecy of the relationship itself.

"I assure you that there is nothing going on between me and Ranka," stated Kyouya clearly, struggling to maintain a solid gaze beneath Tamaki's discontented frown, but nonetheless expertly doing so.

"Then why did you drop the honorific?"

"I don't use an honorific with you, do I?"

Tamaki blinked. "Yeah, but we're best friends, and—"

"And why can't I be best friends with Ranka?" Of course he knew it wasn't very likely by social tradition, but according to purely juvenile logic it made perfect sense. Kyouya was _allowed_ to have more than one "best friend."

If only one of these best friends wasn't secretly a father/mother/lover/strange mess of a figure, and the other best friend wasn't also subject to a variety of feelings of attachment and attraction.

_Of course _Tamaki couldn't come up with an answer.

Stupid Tamaki.

"Furthermore, _you_ should be the one forming a relationship with Ranka if you wish to become closer to Haruhi," he continued. He waited just one moment for the words to sink in before stalking past Tamaki. Truth be told, the thought of Tamaki growing closer to Ranka, as close as Kyouya had grown to him…the thought of Ranka's hands touching Tamaki where he had touched Kyouya – forbidden places, forbidden ways – of Ranka's lips kissing Tamaki…it troubled Kyouya, regardless of his respect for the okama himself.

In fact, the thought of _anyone _kissing Tamaki – even Haruhi, whom Kyouya trusted would make a wonderful wife and bring his friend happiness – bothered the Shadow King.

That was it. Kyouya had begun to accept the fact that he was in love with Tamaki. He also gained a considerable new respect for the word "bother."

But where did that leave Ranka?

It brought Kyouya back to the day when Ranka had given him his first kiss, and the short conversation they had shared just before:

"_Even if I do love Tamaki, he wouldn't return my affection. He obviously cares for Haruhi."_

"_Maybe, but that's why I'm here."_

_Maybe, but that's why I'm here_.

The phrase repeated itself in Kyouya's mind. _This _was what Ranka meant – not quite a replacement, but someone to act as the Tamaki with whom Kyouya wished he connected.

Thankfully, it seemed Ranka was well aware of his insertion into this role. Perhaps it was voluntary, or even deliberate. In retrospect, Kyouya could barely remember who had really made the first move. Was it him, by coming to the Fujioka household? Or what is Ranka, by welcoming the lost boy into his arms? Or was it the both of them, by planning that stalking game?

All had started from there, and at times it seemed as though it was on a path headed straight for a beautiful disaster.

And other times, as when Kyouya made these realizations, it just seemed _beautiful_.


	9. Heartache Temporary

"_Change the World" – Anberlin_

Chapter 9: Heartache Temporary

Tamaki sat across from Haruhi at the restaurant table laden with ornate decorations. The former stared off into the distance, while the latter wrinkled her brow at this action. Or lack thereof.

"Mommy's very upset…"

Haruhi sighed. He had been muttering variations on this ever since they left Suoh mansion #2. She had finally agreed to go out on a school night, and what does he do? He blabbers on about Kyouya, again and again and again.

"Mommy's not telling Daddy anything…"

It wasn't that Haruhi had anything _against_ Kyouya, but at this point it almost seemed as though Tamaki was _in love_ with him. At the very least, Kyouya meant more to Tamaki than she herself did.

"Senpai," she stated, successfully attracting his attention. He turned on her with those adorable, puppy-dog eyes.

"Yes, my darling daughter?" he asked in worry, but not the genuine concern she could see he had for Kyouya this evening.

"If you're so worried about Kyouya-senpai, then why don't you try calling him?" she suggested.

Tamaki shook his head woefully, denying her attempt to lighten the mood. "I tried. He doesn't answer the phone. What if those devilish twins were right? What if Mommy's having an affair?" The overdramatic, forsaken flair that struck his features befitted the King. At the same time, Haruhi noticed something else in the midst of all the overacting – something that looked remarkably like _jealousy_.

She laughed suddenly, catching Tamaki off-guard. He stared at her in confusion. "You act as if the two of you really _are _married, senpai." She quickly suppressed the giggles, slightly ashamed at laughing at a time when Tamaki was clearly feeling such sadness.

"What?"

Then—then—she noticed _something else_ lining his cheeks. What was that?

Oh, yes – it was most certainly a _blush_.

Haruhi took a deep breath. Tamaki was obviously too dense to figure this out himself; he needed some assistance. For once, he didn't break out with flirtatious comments on how cute she looked with the intake of breath.

"You love Kyouya-senpai, don't you?" she asked, slowly and carefully. For several minutes, the blonde didn't speak, the blush on his cheeks deepening into a dark maroon. A hand was clapped over his mouth. His eyes were distant, though something else shined within them. It was deeper than the shine as he entertained the customers, brighter than the shine as he twirled Haruhi around whenever he got the chance.

It was the shine that went with the smile that went with the name _Kyouya_.

After what must have been the longest time in which Tamaki had ever remained silent in thought, he spoke up.

"I think I do," he whispered. He then whipped his head around to face Haruhi with pleading features. His voice regained vivacity, though not of the joyful kind. "But it's not right! I'm sorry, Haruhi, what should I do!? Kyouya can't—" He stopped when Haruhi held a hand up in front of him.

"First, senpai, you should calm down," she directed. He did not visibly relax, nor did he continue on the potential rant. "You don't have to apologize – it's fine with me."

He blinked once. "Really, Haruhi?"

"Of course." She offered a small smile to ensure him of her indifference.

Haruhi didn't much understand love, having never experienced it herself as far as she could tell – and, indeed, if one couldn't tell then it did not measure up to that which was marketed as love – but it must have been some powerful emotion in order to evoke the things she saw in Tamaki.

"Go for it," she encouraged. These words seemed to do it, as Tamaki then abruptly stood up from his chair with a determined gaze.

"Thank you, Haruhi," was all he said before dashing out of the restaurant. She had the feeling that he was about to plan something, and – knowing Tamaki – it was bound to be extravagant.

--

Sadly, Kyouya was left completely unaware of Haruhi's revelation, and so was forced to seek solace in the arms of the girl's father. Kyouya desperately tried to distract himself from thoughts of Tamaki and distress at his being on another date with Haruhi and not with him. In order to do this, Kyouya occupied himself with Ranka instead.

He positioned himself over Ranka's form calmly sitting on the floor, and immediately went for the lips. They he kissed with a fervor of one who had not sampled their taste in so long, desperate for the flavor to enter his senses. Ranka answered with equal enthusiasm, doing his best to distract Kyouya from whatever – or, to be more precise, whoever – was on his mind. He wrapped his arms around Kyouya's waist, pulling him closer.

After what seemed like too short a time, Kyouya lifted his lips from Ranka's and moved to the crook of his neck. There, he applied light, feathery kisses like Ranka had done to him the last time. In return, Ranka nuzzled against the other's cheek.

"You know this is only temporary," he breathed in Kyouya's ear. The boy paused mid-kiss, leaning back to stare Ranka in the eye.

"Is it?" he sent back, raising an eyebrow. His hopeful tone put a frown on Ranka's face.

"You know how much I care about you, Kyouya – or at least I hope you do – but I could never love anyone like I love Kotoko." He lifted a hand to brush back Kyouya's bangs, and found that they were sticking to his forehead with sweat. Kyouya grasped Ranka's hand in his own and squeezed; he didn't want to let him go. "I'm sorry. But I think you understand."

Kyouya sighed, averting his eyes. He understood quite well. It was unique, the way he felt about Ranka – a mix of appreciation, lust, and satisfaction.

But it wasn't _love_.

He was certain now that what he felt towards Tamaki was love.

But why had Ranka been able to see through Kyouya and realize this before the acclaimed Shadow King himself did? And why had the man gone all-out to bring Kyouya to realize it himself? Could he be _that_ altruistic, a perfect compliment to Kyouya's own selfishness?

Ha. Of course not. Everyone knew that Ranka didn't like Tamaki much. By bringing him and Kyouya together, the overzealous, idiotic blonde would stay away from Haruhi, just as Ranka wanted him to.

Regardless, Kyouya couldn't help but trust that that wasn't all there was to it.

"Eventually, you _will _find yourself in the arms of Tamaki-kun," Ranka continued, his voice now in a soft whisper. He returned the affectionate squeeze to Kyouya's hand. "But until then, I'm here for you." Smiling with neither happiness nor amusement, but consolation, he carried the other's hand to his lips, brushing them lightly against the pale skin.

For some reason, Ranka's words left Kyouya emotionally drained. He leaned over, laying his forehead on Ranka's shoulder in a motion of exhaustion. A half-smile, half-smirk played at the corners of his mouth.

"Thank you," he earnestly spoke after a moment of silence.

"It's my pleasure," replied Ranka. He brought his hand up to stroke Kyouya's hair.


	10. Stop and Say You Love Me

"_Stop and Say You Love Me" – Evan's Blue_

_Highly inspired by _Save the King _by The Dream Whisperer_

Chapter 10: Stop and Say You Love Me

The light from the chandeliers gleamed off every diamond that the girls wore, rendering them even more fabulous. Then again, all the girls of Ouran were automatically fabulous in Tamaki's eyes. But none of them were quite perfect. There was one person in the room who _was_ perfect, however.

"Welcome, princesses, to the second annual Host Club dance party!" announced Tamaki, standing atop the platform, looking out over his lovely guests. His snappy white suit blended well with the décor. "Please enjoy yourselves." He bowed in a dramatic flourish and several girls fainted, while the others cheered loudly. He then flew down the stairs to join his fellow hosts in dancing with the ladies.

After the first hour, in which everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves well enough, Tamaki finished a dance with one of his regular clients with an quick apology.

"I'm sorry, princess, but there is something very important I must do," he said ever-so-smoothly. The girl was too busy squealing in happiness to respond. Tamaki left the dance floor to find Kyouya sitting by himself, gazing out over the guests, no doubt doing some extensive calculations in his head. Or so Tamaki thought.

Little did he know that Kyouya was _really _thinking about the one person he truly wanted to dance with, and how he couldn't possibly, and as a result how he shouldn't be thinking about it, for it would do him no good. A soft voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Kyouya…"

He glanced up to find the blonde wearing a small smile. Kyouya restrained himself from blushing, like always.

"Yes, Tamaki?" he prompted. The other reached out a hand.

"May I have this dance?" Tamaki asked. Kyouya had to stop for a minute and think, _Was this a dream? _He decided it couldn't be, and so accepted the outstretched hand. Tamaki wanted to dance with him, and – as always – he had to give Tamaki what he wanted. Silently Kyouya let Tamaki help him up from his seat, practically shocked into silence. His brain rationalized that this was all a joke, a ploy to elicit more 'flames of moe' from the female crowd, while his heart hoped otherwise.

He produced a small smile himself to cover up the mental mess inside. Kyouya could feel everyone's eyes on them as Tamaki lead him out onto the dance floor. He was sure Tamaki felt the gaze too, but – being Tamaki – paid it no heed. Kyouya's heart skipped a beat with the squeeze that Tamaki gave his hands as he guided them into place for the dance. It was not unlike the hand-squeezes that Ranka often gave him in motion, but the wonderfully distinct effect it gave Kyouya could not be an illusion.

Together they danced to the slow, smooth rhythm of the classical music as if no one was watching them, and yet at the same time everyone was. The sheer bliss that Kyouya felt at each and every moment that Tamaki guided him across the floor outweighed, by far, his pondering as to why. For now, he simply soaked in Tamaki's soft gaze and the way his violet-blue eyes shown, showing he was enjoying himself as well.

It was _this _that convinced him he was in love with Tamaki – he could do nothing or anything at all and it would be fine; Kyouya would revel in it. Ranka had to fulfill Kyouya's wishes – though he certainly did, much to the boy's gratitude – in order for Kyouya to truly enjoy his presence.

Ranka was handsome, but Tamaki was _captivating_.

As the song came to a close, Tamaki released his left hand from the grip. For a moment, Kyouya mentally faltered, feeling deep the loss of contact. His unease was soon put to rest, however, as Tamaki brought his hand even closer, his arm around his partner's back, and pulled him closer. Kyouya had but a moment to be intrigued, for Tamaki then leaned forward, covering the now relatively small distance between them, and brought his lips to Kyouya's own. The other arm broke free from its grip as well and traveled to the back of Kyouya's head.

Kyouya wrapped his now free arms around Tamaki's neck, all the while gratefully returning the sudden, yet wholly desired, kiss. His first thought was occupied by how _different_ he tasted from Ranka, and the second by how much more _beautiful_ this flavor was. All too soon Tamaki broke away, much to Kyouya's dismay, and reverted to staring into his eyes and caressing his dark hair.

"Tamaki," Kyouya whispered, prompting the other to explain his actions. Regardless of his thankfulness, he needed to know _why_.

"I love you, Kyouya," was Tamaki's answer, his eyes shining with something Kyouya had never seen in them before. Something _dazzling_. The King brushed away a tear that began forming at the edge of Kyouya's eye. Those eyes briefly widened in surprise. Their relaxing accompanied a genuine smile.

"I love you too, Tamaki." A sweet embrace followed, letting loose the withheld ecstatic exclamations from the crowd of girls. Kyouya laid his head on Tamaki's shoulder, clinging to the other's shirt as if for dear life. "What took you so long?"

"I thought…you and Ranka-san…" Tears sprung forth from his eyes. Kyouya didn't want to see him cry.

"I could never love Ranka – or anyone else – like I love you." He stepped back from the embrace. Placing his hands gently on either side of Tamaki's face, he rotated the other's head so that they stared face to face. Kyouya's frown caused the other to copy the motion in apprehension. "I need you to understand that." _Now that I understand it myself…_

Tamaki nodded. "I think I understand. It's just like how I could never love Haruhi – or anyone else – like I love you." For a second time, Kyouya's eyes widened. But before he could question further, Tamaki engulfed his lips once again in a kiss.

--

Later, they had sneaked out of the ballroom to spend some time alone, just the two of them, talking to one another – or not talking, for that matter, it didn't really matter. Kyouya insisted that they drop by the Fujioka's apartment for a moment before settling down in one place. Although Tamaki was displeased with the prospect, and Kyouya would have done almost anything – _almost_, he thought carefully – in order to relieve this discontent, Tamaki also had a feeling that this was something very important to his friend, his companion, his partner, his _so-much-more-than-that_.

And so, Kyouya knocked on the Fujioka's door, only to be greeted with the confused face of Ranka.—_Wasn't there a dance tonight?_

Then he spotted Tamaki standing by the railing, and a smile curved onto his lips.

"Ranka, how much of this did you plan?" Kyouya asked with a suspicious twitch at the corner of his mouth.

"_Plan_? Why, Kyouya, you flatter me," replied Ranka, displaying his characteristic good humor. His smile turned into a half-smirk. "I didn't _plan_ any of it. I simply set it up."

Kyouya chuckled. They shared one last hug – one that felt more like a father's – before saying good-bye for the night, and, silently, good-bye to their convoluted affair. Then, Kyouya returned to the impatient Tamaki. As they headed down the sidewalk, not really having a concrete destination in mind, but at the same time not really caring so long as they were in each other's company, Tamaki posed a nervous question.

"Um, Kyouya…" he began, unsure of how to ask it.

"Yes, Tamaki?" Kyouya prompted.

"Um…what, exactly, _did_ you do with Ranka-san?"

A pause followed. Then, Kyouya emitted a light laugh. "How about I give you a _demonstration_ later?"

It was undoubtedly more of a statement than an offer, which even so would have been one that Tamaki couldn't refuse.

_The End_


End file.
